Daddies
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: This is a series of snapshots into the life of Kurt, Sebastian, and their adopted son, Thomas. Al ot of cute domesticity with Kurt and Sebastian being incredibly in love and turned on by each other. Kurt H. Sebastian S.
1. Daddies

At some point between dreaming about his mother's rice pudding and dressing in a red Spandex super hero costume, Sebastian felt the soft press of lips against his. Regretfully, however, the lure of sleep won out over the promise of his husband's tempting lips, and Sebastian drifted back into a world of crime fighting and custard-based desserts.

Sebastian turned onto his stomach and reach out an arm for Kurt, searching out his warmth and his incredibly soft skin even while his head still swam with the sweet delirium of sleep. Sebastian's hand padded at the mattress, coming in contact with cold, wrinkled sheets at every pass. Sebastian sighed. He peeled one heavy eyelid opened and took a peek.

Gone. Kurt's side of the bed was vacant. The sheets were cold. Sebastian frowned. He knew exactly where his husband had gone.

Kurt had crawled off to climb into bed with a sassier, much younger brunette.

Sebastian threw off his comforter with a resentful grunt, shivering as all the delicious heat escaped like a flash into the chill evening air. He grabbed blindly for his sweatshirt, tossing it on over his tank top t-shirt, trying to wake up even as his body gravitated instinctually back towards the bed.

"Kurt…" he groaned, his voice low and groggy. He stumbled into the hall, stubbing his toe on the door jamb along the way.

Sebastian felt his way down the hall, the journey to the small bedroom on the left not yet ingrained in his psyche so that he can make it unfailingly in the dark.

"Kurt…" he continued to groan, like some sleep deprived, one-track minded zombie.

"Shhh!" a high-pitched voice hissed from inside the otherwise quiet room.

"Did…did you just shush me?" Sebastian mumbled incredulously. Now more awake, he made his way quietly through the partially open door. He found Kurt where he always found him, cramped onto the far edge of the full-size bed, his entire body curled around a peacefully sleeping toddler. Sebastian could see a tuft of the boy's brown hair, barely visible above the Skylanders comforter wrapped tightly around him.

Sebastian put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, smirking down at the unlikely pair.

"I thought we agreed that climbing into bed with snuggles here every time he had a nightmare was a bad idea," Sebastian chided around a yawn.

"I never said that," Kurt muttered, refusing to look up into Sebastian's mocking face.

"Uh, yes you did," Sebastian said, moving to the unused side of the bed. "You said he needed to learn how to comfort himself. You showed me magazine articles, and quoted from books written by Star Trek characters…"

Kurt scoffed. He wrapped his arms protectively around the little boy.

Sebastian lied down carefully on the bed and stretched out, his feet hanging over the edge.

"Let me guess," Sebastian sighed, "another dream about his mom?"

Kurt didn't have to answer. They'd only had Thomas for about a month, and even though the little boy with the infectious laugh and the mischievous streak had opened up amazingly to Kurt and Sebastian, he dreamt every night about his mother.

The boy's snarky attitude had appealed to Sebastian. Thomas reminded him of a miniature Kurt.

The way he had lost his mother had drawn Kurt to him. In the end, more than anything, that was why they had chosen him as their first foster child.

Though 'foster' was just a formality. Sebastian knew that once they got the okay, Thomas would be theirs.

"At least you could have let me get up with him this time." Sebastian grabbed for the end of the comforter and pulled it over his body, the unused end barely fitting over him with nothing left to cover his back.

"You were deeply engrossed in another rice pudding dream," Kurt whispered. "I know better than to interrupt one of those."

"Mmm," Sebastian moaned, smacking his lips. "Rice pudding."

Sebastian lay still, trying hard to convince himself that he was comfortable enough to fall asleep, but after a few minutes with his ass hanging off the bed and his back exposed to the cold he realized he was in for a long night.

"Um…can't we just take the little guy into our bed for the night, since we're all together anyway?"

"No," Kurt insisted, rolling his own stiff neck and shoulders. "Then he'll just climb into bed with us whenever he has a nightmare, and that I _can't_ allow."

"We do need to get a lock for our door," Sebastian said, trying to scoot closer to the cuddled pair. "What if he walks in on us…"

Sebastian stopped and chuckled.

"What?" Kurt asked, holding Thomas closer when he rolled over and buried his head beneath his pillow to block out their conversation.

"I just don't make enough money to pay for that amount of therapy."


	2. A Trip to the Doctor

**A/N:** _Kurt and Sebastian take Thomas to his pediatrician Wes (I made his last name Leung because I couldn't find Wes's last name), and Sebastian has it out with the receptionist._

"Hummel…Smythe…" Sebastian growled through a jaw clenched so tight he could barely breathe. "Thomas…Hummel…Smythe…"

"I know, sir," the severe receptionist returned, completely unmoved by Sebastian's mounting anger. "But your son is _still_ not on the list of appointments for today."

"That's probably because my husband just talked to Wes not five minutes ago," Sebastian said, his fingers curling and uncurling in tight fists on the counter.

"Do you mean _Dr. Leung_?" the nurse returned condescendingly. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"To you maybe. You didn't sleep next to him for two years in high school."

The nurse appeared slightly offended at that comment, which Sebastian chalked up as a win.

"Look," the nurse said, handing Sebastian a clipboard, "you are more than welcome to fill out this admissions paperwork and wait with all of the other walk-ins. F.Y.I. it's about a two hour wait." Sebastian was sure he saw the evil woman grimace, but he knew that Kurt would withhold sex for at least a week if he dropped this woman like a hot potato here on the floor. Sebastian grabbed the clipboard with as much venom as he could put into picking something up, and reached for the sparkly little recycled soup can filled with flower pens, but when Nurse Ratched saw him reach for one, she grabbed it away. He looked at her with his jaw dropped.

"What the fuck?" he groaned.

"Those aren't for the patients," she said coolly, replacing it with a plain white mug filled with blue BIC ballpoint pens.

"But the other receptionist let us use the flower pens," Sebastian groused loudly.

"Yes, well, the other receptionist isn't here."

"Yeah…and the other receptionist isn't a bitch!" Sebastian spat out.

The woman stood up and slammed her hands on the desk.

"I will not be spoken to that way," she said, jutting her chin and her tiny, upturned nose into the air.

"Yeah, well, you should have probably thought about that before you left your house and said 'You know what? I think I'm going to be a bitch to some poor sick little kid's parents today!'"

From the chorus of snickers that arose in the waiting room around him, Sebastian suspected he wasn't the only one.

Kurt sighed, having snuck in with Thomas sometime after the pen argument and met Wes at the inside office door.

"Kurt," Wes said, smiling warmly. "It's so nice to see you. How is Thomas feeling?"

"His throat hurts," Kurt said, keeping a hand around the shy little boy hiding behind his legs. "And I think he has an ear infection."

"I see," Wes said, looking at Thomas thoughtfully, then pulling a sudden, maniacal face that made the wary boy giggle. Wes shook his head at the ruckus coming from the front desk.

"Sebastian?" Wes called out over the bickering.

Sebastian stopped mid-insult and his head snapped in Wes's direction. His red, twisted face relaxed into a smooth and charming grin.

"Wes, dude! Thank God you're here."

"Is everything alright?" Wes asked.

Before the nurse could put in her two-cents, Sebastian pointed at her accusingly.

"I don't like her," he said petulantly. "She's being mean to me."

Wes looked from Sebastian to the smug nurse rolling her eyes. Wes raised an eyebrow in her direction and the woman actually froze.

"Noted," Wes said. Kurt had to bite his lip and turn his face away to muffle his laughter at the look of dread on the woman's face. "Anything else?"

"Yes." Sebastian stood to his full height, straightening his wrinkled shirt. "She won't let me use the flower pens."

Wes looked back at the now cowering woman, and made a subtle gesture with his head. She moved quickly but stiffly, returning the sparkly pen can back up to its place on the counter. Sebastian rubbed his hands together and plucked one of the pens, a purple gerbera, out of the can. He carried it with the clipboard and joined his family at the office door, throwing one last superior look over his shoulder as he went.

Wes simply shook his head as he led the way.

"Was that really necessary?" Kurt asked.

"Yes," Sebastian said as he held the door open wide for his husband and son, "yes, it was."


	3. The Lego Conundrum

**A/N:** _Rated NC17 for language and mention of sex. _

"This is your fault, you know," Kurt gripes as he slowly makes his way across the living room carpet, plucking stray Legos from the pile and separating the blocks into different containers.

"For getting carpet instead of keeping the hardwood floors?" Sebastian smirks, watching his husband's painfully sluggish progress, shaking his head every time Kurt hisses when he finds a particularly sharp block with the heel of his hand instead of his eyes.

"That," Kurt agrees, "and for buying Thomas every single Lego known to man."

"The boy needs to be able to build whatever he wants to build," Sebastian argues.

Kurt kneels up straight and leans from side to side, pivoting at the waist to crack his tired back.

"Yeah, but he has enough Legos to build a full-scale model of Grand Central Station."

"Well, no one says you have to separate them by size and color, Captain OCD," Sebastian quips. "If you'd just grab them and toss them all together, you'd have been done an hour ago and we'd be fucking by now."

Kurt blows out a breath in frustration, tossing his hands in the air.

"You could be down here helping, you know, instead of standing around making smart remarks."

"I could," Sebastian says, his smirk curling devilishly, "but the view of your ass is so much better from up here. Besides, I've got that old war injury."

Kurt looks up at Sebastian with disgust.

"What war injury, you faker?" Kurt snaps.

"The one I got from fighting with you for all those years when you should have just given up like a good boy and agreed to be my boyfriend."

Kurt crosses his arms.

"Well, I married you, you asshat, so it looks like you won and I lost. So get down here and help me."

Sebastian tilts his head and sighs.

"You're right," he admits. "I should. But I think I'll get a beer instead."

Kurt scoffs as Sebastian winks at him and makes his way across the carpet towards the kitchen. Kurt shakes his head and bends low over the floor, gritting his teeth and getting back to the arduous job of hunting down Legos.

"God damned motherfucking shit!" Sebastian barks out suddenly. Kurt snaps his head up and sees his husband hopping around on one foot, the other foot raised and leaning against his knee. From his place on the floor Kurt can see two small red blocks lodged in the soft skin of Sebastian's arch.

Kurt smiles.

Maybe there's a God up there somewhere looking out for him after all.


	4. Thomas and the Bunny pajamas

**A/N:** _Here's a Happy Easter one-shot featuring Kurt and Sebastian and their adopted son Thomas (featured in my stories 'Daddies', 'A Trip to the Doctor', and 'The Lego Conundrum'_.

"Papadaddypapadaddypapadaddypapadaddypapadaddy…"

The chant continues, getting faster and louder the longer Kurt and Sebastian pretend to sleep, but faking out a four-year-old on a major candy related holiday championed by a fluffy animal mascot is nearly impossible, especially since children at that age can sense three things in adults: lies, fear, and consciousness, even in its tiniest measure.

Violent shaking by tiny but surprisingly strong hands accompanies the chanting, and Sebastian shakes his head.

"He's not leaving, is he?" Sebastian grumbles, wrapping his arms around Kurt and hugging him tighter, burying his head deeper into the crook of his husband's neck.

"I'm afraid not," Kurt mumbles back, pulling the comforter over their heads, just to have it yanked forcibly back down.

"Papa! Daddy!" a hyper voice whines. "He's been here! You have to get up!"

Kurt sighs.

"You know we're going to have to get out of bed," Kurt mutters, defeated by his own wisdom.

"But we just went to sleep ten minutes ago," Sebastian complains.

"I know, I know…" Kurt says, patting Sebastian's hand, trying to comfort the man currently burrowing into his back. Kurt peeks through a heavy eyelid at the enthusiastic little boy bouncing on their bed like it's a trampoline and snickers.

"Sebastian," Kurt laughs. "Sebastian, take a look at your son."

Sebastian groans even louder, prying a single eyelid open to catch sight of his son, hopped up on sugar and racing around their room. He focuses harder on the tiny blur as he drags around an oversized basket, shedding plastic grass all over the carpet.

"Thomas!" Sebastian says more sternly. "Did you break into the jellybeans?" Sebastian rubs his tired eyes with the heel of his hand to clear his vision. "We said no sugar till…"

After a few more blinks Sebastian can finally make out the sassy elfish child dancing in circles dressed in the most God-awful Pepto Bismol pink Easter Bunny pajamas Sebastian has ever seen.

"Holy shit!" Sebastian says, yawning and laughing at the exact same time. "He put them on! He actually put them on!"

Kurt elbows Sebastian hard in the ribs.

"Don't curse when he's around," Kurt scolds.

"I don't care," Sebastian says, pointing at the boy in the bunny suit sitting on the carpet in the corner of the room. "Look at him."

Kurt sits up to fully appreciate his adorable adopted son. Thomas's basket sits between his legs, gigantic bunny slippers on his feet, as he breaks into another small plastic egg full of jellybeans. One lop-sided ear droops into the boy's face, but he simply pushes it aside, intent on popping the colored candy into his mouth.

Kurt reaches over to the table beside their bed and grabs his iPhone.

"What are you doing, babe?" Sebastian asks. Kurt opens the camera app and aims at Thomas, snapping a few pictures.

"I'm letting Carole and dad see the terror they have wrought by sending us that outfit," Kurt explains, typing out a quick message to go along with the pictures and hitting send. Kurt sees Thomas reach for yet another plastic egg full of jellybeans and his eyes go wide, taking in the already empty eggs broken in half and littering the bottom of the basket.

"Okay, Thomas," Kurt relents, eager to get something else in his boy's stomach other than high fructose corn syrup and red dye #5. "Go into the living room. We'll have pancakes and eggs, and I'll get the map for the Easter egg hunt."

"Yay!" the boy cheers, grabbing up his basket and racing into the next room.

"A fucking map?" Sebastian moans in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

"How else do you expect us to find fifty hard-boiled eggs?" Kurt asks. "Trust me when I tell you that you don't want to miss one and find it in July."

Kurt throws off the comforter the rest of the way, shimmying out of the bed, but Sebastian pulls him back, laying him flat on the bed and crawling over him with a familiar telltale glint in his darkening green eyes.

"Oh, no," Kurt giggles, placing a hand flat on Sebastian's chest to push him away. "Not morning sex. Not today."

"It'll only take a minute," Sebastian promises. "And as usual, you don't have to do anything by lie back and let me do all the work."

Kurt slugs Sebastian in the shoulder with a grimace on his face that's fighting so hard to morph into a grin.

"Well, then later can I dress you up? I think you would make the hottest little bunny," Sebastian purrs into his husband's ear.

"Uh, I'm not sure I would actually fit into that costume," Kurt chuckles, turning his head and watching Thomas hop by the bedroom door, the ears on top of his head bobbing with each jump.

"I don't need you in the whole costume," Sebastian clarifies, nibbling on Kurt's earlobe. "Just the ears and the tail."


	5. Newest Member of the Family

**A/N:** _The Hummel-Smythe family considers getting a puppy. (Warning for minor blink-and-you'll-miss-it mention of an anxiety disorder in a child.)_

"_Ugh_…Daddy?" Thomas grunts under the weight of an amazingly patient labradoodle puppy, slipping in the boy's arms as he half-carries/half-drags the dog from the car to the house. "Isn't papa…_uh-oh_…going to be mad…_oops_…when he finds out we went out and got a puppy…_mmfh_…even after he said no?"

"He didn't say no," Sebastian reminds the boy, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder, staying close enough by his son to rescue the poor animal if needed. "He said he'd think about it."

"Yeah, well…_oof_…when papa says he's going to think about something, that's usually another way of saying no."

Thomas sets the fluffy beige dog on the floor and plops down beside it.

"Don't you worry about your papa, Tom-Tom," Sebastian smirks, trying to keep the tone of his voice as G-rated as possible, "I'll take care of him."

Sebastian and Thomas hear the doorknob jiggle, and Sebastian leaps into action.

"Now, remember the plan, buddy?" Sebastian asks the concerned little boy who sits close and protective of his new best friend.

"Yup," Thomas says with a nod, taking the black Wii remote that his father hands him.

"Good," Sebastian says, dropping onto the floor beside the labradoodle and its anxious new owner. Sebastian turns on the flat screen and starts the game.

Kurt rummages through the mail, muttering to himself as he walks up the steps to the house.

"Bill, bill, junk…Ooo! Burberry catalogue…"

He reaches for the doorknob and gives it a turn, confused when he pushes on the door and it doesn't open.

"Guys?" Kurt calls, knocking on the door. "Bas? Thomas?"

Kurt listens at the door as he calls out the names of his husband and son. He can hear the muted sounds of Mario Kart through the door but nothing else. He sighs, fishing in his pocket for his house keys.

"Guys," Kurt calls in when he unlocks the door, "I told you I was just running to the post office. Why did you lock the door? Did you go out or something?"

"Yeah, babe," Sebastian mumbles, completely involved in shooting a koopa shell at a passing Princess Daisy kart. "We ran out for minute. Sorry, I forgot to leave the door unlocked."

Kurt stands and stares suspiciously at his distracted husband in silence. He eyes Sebastian and Thomas, both almost too focused on the game they're playing. Sebastian's eyes dart up to Kurt's face quickly and he smirks, blowing him a kiss before returning to the game.

Kurt walks past, blocking the view of the t.v. for a moment. Father and son don't yell at him as usual. Instead they crane their necks to peek around him. Something's not quite right and Kurt knows it. He looks at them one last time and sighs, continuing on into the kitchen. Kurt shrugs. Maybe he's mistaken, except…

Kurt walks back into the living room and takes another look at the pair playing Mario Kart with surgical concentration. His jaw drops and he puts his hands on his hips.

"Sebastian Smythe!" Kurt bellows. "Did you go out behind my back and get Thomas a dog after I said no?"

Thomas drops his remote and throws his arms around the quiet puppy's neck, and Kurt feels his chest tighten.

"You never said no," Sebastian points out, moving closer to his son and the puppy. "You said you'd think about it."

"Bas!" Kurt groans. "We _did_ talk about it!"

Sebastian waits for a moment, and when no one speaks he nudges Thomas on the shoulder inconspicuously.

Thomas turns to stare at his father, bewildered, but then Sebastian raises his eyebrows and Thomas remembers 'the plan'.

"Oh," he says quietly. Kurt bites his lip to cage the chuckle bubbling up in his throat. "You and daddy talked about it," Thomas recites stiffly, "but we didn't discuss it as a fambly."

"Family," Sebastian corrects softly.

"Right," Thomas says, "_fam-i-ly_."

Kurt gasps, trying to prepare a defense against an adorable five-year-old.

He pretty much accepts that he's already lost.

"Tell him, Tom-Tom," Sebastian encourages when he sees the clouded look in his husband's eyes that signals his impending defeat.

"Papa," Thomas starts, pulling himself straighter with his arms still looped around the puppy's neck, "you said this house is a dem….demo…dem…"

"Democracy," Sebastian whispers out of the corner of his mouth.

"Medocracy!" Thomas crows triumphantly.

"Close enough, kiddo," Sebastian whispers again.

"And that means we all vote for the things we want and the most of us wins."

Kurt sighs again, putting a hand to his forehead, head pounding with the strain of trying so hard not to laugh.

Thomas watches Kurt squeeze his eyes shut and shake his head. He turns his tiny head to stare at Sebastian, eyes wide with despair, pleading for help.

Sebastian ruffles the boy's hair and gives him a reassuring wink as he stands and heads for his husband.

"Kurt," Sebastian says, grabbing hold of his upper arms and pulling him out of earshot.

"Bas, we talked about this," Kurt says, "about the shedding…"

"But it's a labradoodle," Sebastian intervenes. "They don't shed. They're hypoallergenic. Remember what Wes said about maybe getting Thomas a comfort animal? To help with his anxiety?"

"Bas…" Kurt looks up into Sebastian's green eyes and groans, "there's no such thing as a hypoallergenic dog. And besides, there's the walking and the chewing and the messes."

"Kurt…" Sebastian puts a hand to Kurt's cheek, and despite his irritation at his husband's actions he leans into the touch, "I'm not a complete idiot, you know. Wes put me in touch with an occupational therapist who specializes in animal therapy and gave me the number of a place that trains animals for boys like Thomas."

Kurt looks at Sebastian with surprise; seeing the snarky, over-confident, devil-may-care man he fell in love with through new eyes.

"You really did all of that?" Kurt asks.

Sebastian smiles, leaning in close and pressing his lips gently to Kurt's, kissing him tenderly.

It may not be overwhelmingly hot or all too passionate, but it's enough to take Kurt's breath away.

"When he needs to go out in the middle of the night, you're taking him," Kurt says against his husband's tempting lips."

"He's crate trained," Sebastian counters, "so already handled."

"And if he chews on anything of mine, you're replacing it…with interest."

"Agreed, but I'm sure that will never happen," Sebastian grins. "Anything else?"

Kurt's exasperated look transforms into a wicked grin. He leans in to Sebastian's ear.

"And you're going to blow me," Kurt whispers, "every night, every morning, and any time in between that I ask you to."

"And how is that different from any other day that ends in 'y' for the past how many years?" Sebastian drawls, nibbling Kurt's ear and tugging slightly.

Kurt giggles and turns back to Thomas, but the sound drifts away when he sees the boy's head buried in the puppy's neck, his chest shaking with silent sobs.

"Oh, sweetheart," Kurt coos, breaking away from his husband and kneeling down beside the little boy. Kurt puts an arm around his shoulder and nuzzles his nose into his son's strawberry-scented hair. "Why don't we take our newest family member down to PetCo and get him some toys? Maybe a collar?"

Thomas's watery eyes rose slowly to look at Kurt.

"You mean," Thomas says, his voice wobbly, "you mean Hepburn can stay?"

Kurt turns his head to look back at his husband, meeting the green eyes watching them with a smug smile on his handsome yet still meerkatish face.

"Hepburn?" Kurt says with a raised eyebrow. "You guys didn't pull any punches, did you?"

Kurt stands, helping Thomas to his feet. He offers the boy his hand and leads him to the front door, followed close behind by the obedient puppy.

"What can I say?" Sebastian asks, pinching Kurt's ass as he passes in front of him. "I know all of your weak spots."


	6. An Itchy Situation

**A/N:** _Inspired by a FF reviewer's request for Kurt taking care of Seb while he's sick, something other than a headache or a cold. I had a lot of ideas, but this is the first one I got the chance to write. From the 'Daddies' verse which includes Kurt and Seb's adopted son Thomas and his labradoodle Hepburn. Warning for mentions of bondage, oral sex, and a little frustration. :)_

Kurt stands at the end of the California king-sized bed, hands resting on his hips as he eyes his sexy husband, raking down his body with smiling blue eyes, licking dry lips as they fall past his bare chest and linger on the white cotton sheet that covers his hips down to his legs, knowing without seeing that all he's wearing underneath is a pair of deep purple briefs. Kurt's gaze returns to Sebastian's face, biting his lower lip to stifle a giggle at the bright pink paste caked all over his tan skin.

"Tell me again," Kurt whimpers when the urge to laugh becomes too irresistible, "how you are covered in head to toe poison ivy?"

Sebastian sighs, wiggling his nose when it itches to keep from scratching, staring forlornly at the paisley print oven mitts on his hands, duct taped around the wrists to keep him from ripping them off and scratching himself within an inch of his life.

"Kurt," Sebastian groans, rolling his dry, irritated eyes to the ceiling, "I've told you this story three times already."

"I know," Kurt says, "but the part I can't seem to wrap my mind around is how a grown man comes home covered in poison ivy when his five-year-old son and their puppy don't seem to have a single rash."

Kurt turns his head to look back at the little boy, whose arms are wrapped around his beige dog's neck, staring up at his fathers anxiously. Kurt examines them both with shrewd eyes to make sure that his original assessment was correct.

"Nope," Kurt says, turning back to his husband with a wicked grin. "Not a rash to be seen on those two."

"Well," Sebastian starts, eying his amused husband with agitation, "I…"

"Thomas," Kurt interrupts, calling over his shoulder, "would you like to tell your daddy why it is that you're not covered in head to toe poison ivy like he is?"

"B-because," Thomas stutters, not sure if he should be answering and getting his daddy into trouble, "Hepburn sensed the danger and kept me away?"

"That's right," Kurt coos, his voice thick with condescension, "that means that you, Sebastian Smythe, have less common sense than a dog."

"To be fair, labradoodles are very intelligent," Sebastian retorts with a smirk.

"Okay, well," Kurt claps his hands together and smiles, "there's nothing much more I can do for you, babe. You have your calamine lotion opened and ready to be applied, you have a Big Gulp of Coca-Cola, and…" Kurt grabs the remote for the t.v. off the bedside table and puts it on the sheet beside Sebastian's left oven mitt, "…now you can watch your programs."

Kurt winks at him, smiling sunnily, and Sebastian mocks him, grimacing when the calamine lotion cracks again right below his eyes. He purses his lips and blows a stream of air up to try and dislodge a flake from his eyelid. He finally gives in and brushes it away with the rounded dome of the ridiculously oversized oven mitt.

"I'm taking Thomas out for some ice-cream, as a reward for not rolling down a hill into a patch of poison ivy just to retrieve a tennis ball."

"Yeah!" Thomas crows. All semblance of anxiety bleeding away with the promise of a fudge-dipped soft serve cone, the boy runs off with Hepburn on his heels to put on his sneakers. Kurt's eyes follow him out the door; then his gaze turns back to Sebastian, lying helpless on the bed, glaring up at Kurt with burning, vengeful eyes.

"Do you know what this reminds me of?" Kurt purrs, approaching the bed, sliding up slowly, trailing light fingers over the sheet, fingertips barely brushing Sebastian's skin.

"What?" Sebastian snaps, but not as sharply as he intends, his eyes focused on where Kurt's fingers linger above the sheet, dancing in little circles to and fro without touching his body.

"Do you remember in that blessed time before we had a little boy and a dog, when we could fuck in the living room in the middle of the day…" Kurt leans over, letting his lips travel an inch above Sebastian's chest, his breath tickling his skin, making the hairs on his arms stand on end (or try to since they are pretty effectively plastered down with calamine lotion). "I used to tie you to the bed…" Kurt whispers in a husky, hungry voice, watching the bulge beneath the white sheet grow as he speaks in soft tones against Sebastian's cheek. "I sucked you off till you couldn't see straight…" He lets a single finger tease the head of Sebastian's interested cock through the sheet. "I licked you and teased you, kept you on the edge of cumming all night long…and you used to call me…master?"

Sebastian moans into Kurt's mouth where it hovers, lips parted, within a breath of his own.

"Yes…" Sebastian sighs, waiting for Kurt to kiss him, to touch him, to put him out of his misery. It would only take a minute. Thomas can definitely wait.

"Good to know," Kurt says, grinning wide, pulling away slowly, feeling Sebastian's hard cock throb once beneath his fingers as he steps back to view his handiwork - his cocky husband, hard and panting, completely helpless to do anything to relieve the pressure.

"I'll just let you think about that while we're out." Kurt takes a step backward toward the door.

Sebastian suddenly realizes that Kurt is leaving, and his lust-blown eyes widen with panic.

"Wait…wait, Kurt…" Sebastian looks down his body at his now rock-hard cock straining against his briefs. He pulls off the sheet and fumbles with the elastic waistband of his underwear, trying to sneak a large, quilt-covered hand underneath. Kurt chuckles as he disappears out the door. "Kurt?" Sebastian calls out. "Kurt?...Kurt!"

"Don't worry," Kurt yells from the front door. "I'll bring you home something to cool you off."


	7. Swear Jar

**A/N:** _Here is another chapter in my 'Daddies' series. Because of Sebastian's swearing and it's effect on their adopted son, Thomas, Kurt is forced to take drastic measures. Warnings for swearing, symptoms of anxiety in a child, and insinuations of sex._

"Stupid, Goddamned, son-of-a…" Sebastian grumbles, tapping his forehead with his fingers, not even trying to calm down.

_Plink, plink, plink._

"Sebastian…" Kurt warns, taking over as the voice of calm.

"Why do I even try?" Sebastian mutters on, ignoring Kurt, pacing back and forth on the kitchen linoleum in a tight circle. "No matter what I say, he still makes stupid fucking decisions…"

_Plink._

"Sebastian!"

"I'm sorry, Kurt!" Sebastian apologizes, not stopping his stride, with Thomas hot on his heels. He hoists a Mason jar in the air, preparing for his father's next curse word. "But this is the last and final fuc—frickin' straw!"

Sebastian thought he had caught himself in time, but a tiny shake of the head from Kurt proves him wrong. Sebastian digs into his pocket, pulls out a shiny coin, and drops it into the Mason jar, transforming a new string of curses into something a little more creative so as not to go completely broke.

Cursing had never been a problem in the Hummel-Smythe household until recently, when Sebastian teamed up with some of his old Dalton buddies to start flipping investment properties. It was a hobby for fun and profit…that was the pitch Sebastian had used to get Kurt to agree. Everybody in the group brought something to the table – Wes has a particular expertise in finding just the right properties (an interesting skill for a pediatrician, but nevertheless…), David is a contractor with his own company, Thad's brother is a painter with an amazing eye for custom colors (and with two new mouths to feed, always grateful for the work), and Trent is a crack real estate agent. Using Kurt's exquisite designer's eye, they have managed to make quite a bit of money already.

The only revolving door in their 'flip crew' is their electrician. Every one David hires ends up abandoning the project halfway through. It's the bizarre Bermuda Triangle in their venture, and the source of Sebastian's more colorful vocabulary as of late. Of course, Sebastian's normal vernacular was never exactly G-rated. Kurt is lucky if he can keep Sebastian anywhere below NC-17, but usually Sebastian is pretty good about not dropping the F-bomb in front of Thomas.

They were in the middle of completing their fifteenth house, and another electrician had gone AWOL when it seemed like suddenly all the rules were washed right down the drain. It didn't bother Kurt too much; he would simply usher Thomas out of the room until Sebastian's fit was finished.

Then Kurt got a call from Thomas's school. Thomas had messed up an art project – a macaroni portrait of Abraham Lincoln – and he had a mini F-bomb of his own. From that afternoon on, Kurt decided drastic measures had to be taken.

Hence, the swear jar. For every swear word that slipped, the guilty family member had to pony up a coin. Thomas's fine was a nickel from his own allowance. Kurt's was a dime. Since Sebastian seemed to be the worst offender, his fine was a quarter.

Of course, contentions had been made for specific circumstances, because there were times when cursing just couldn't be avoided. It had been agreed that if a metal safe dropped on someone's foot that they would be allowed to curse while they dealt with the pain. Sebastian mentioned to Kurt , in private, that Kurt tends to have quite a foul mouth on him during sex, but Kurt said that fell under the umbrella of contentions as unavoidable, and since it doesn't happen in front of Thomas, it doesn't count toward the total.

At the end of each week, the money in the jar is sorted and counted. If Thomas has contributed the most coins, he has to do extra chores or has a privilege taken away. If it's Kurt, he has to make Thomas's favorite peanut butter cup cheesecake. If Sebastian curses the most, he has to take the family out for pizza and ice-cream.

By the weight of Thomas's little jar, evident by the strain in his shaking arms as he hefts the jar up onto his chest, Sebastian is going to be taking the lot of them out for pizza and ice-cream for sure.

"Sebastian," Kurt says, trying to sound reasonable, "try and calm down, and we can discuss this."

"I'm fucking through discussing this, Kurt!" Sebastian growls.

_Plink_.

"Sebastian…" Kurt goes for stern this time, "I don't like you using that language in front of Thomas. We talked about this."

"What?" Sebastian looks at Kurt, thoroughly confused. "I'm following the rules. I'm paying the fucking jar, aren't I, Tom-Tom?"

_Plink_.

"Yes," Thomas says with a grin, repositioning the jar so it doesn't fall, skittering behind his father to keep up.

"No," Kurt argues, "you're abusing the jar. The jar is supposed to teach Thomas not to curse, not to introduce him to the concept of loopholes."

"What loophole?" Sebastian grimaces at Kurt, making air-quotes with his fingers to emphasize his point.

"The loophole that you can say whatever the hell you want as long as you pay the jar!"

Thomas turns to Kurt and frowns.

Kurt rolls his eyes and digs a dime out of his pocket.

_Plink_.

"Well, I need to vent, so this is me VENTING!" Sebastian says through gritted teeth, so close to exploding that Kurt can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Even Thomas's smile slips, and Hepburn, his labradoodle puppy, winds between the little boy's legs to keep him from getting too upset. "And when I VENT, I SWEAR!"

Kurt stands from his stool and approaches his husband, pushing Thomas behind his body gently with a hand to the boy's shoulder.

"Sebastian…" Kurt's voice is soft, lulling, "I don't think you understand…"

"You don't understand, Kurt!" Sebastian roars. "This is serious!"

Sebastian looks from Kurt's face, to Thomas's face, the boy huddling behind his father's legs, hugging the swear jar to his chest, while his loyal labradoodle puppy stands guard at his feet.

"Jes—" Sebastian cuts himself short, patting down his pockets, sullen and annoyed. He turns away from his husband and son without a word and heads for the door.

"Sebastian? Honey?"

Kurt doesn't move with Thomas attached tightly to his legs, but from where they stand in the kitchen, stunned, they can hear Sebastian climb into his Mustang and slam the car door.

Father and son are silent in the wake of an absent Sebastian.

"Papa?" Thomas's meek voice squeaks from his hiding place. "Papa? Where is daddy going?"

"I…I don't know, Thomas," Kurt says, looking down at the little boy. Wide, watery eyes stare back up at him.

"Is he…is he going to come back?" the boy asks, his voice wavering slightly.

"Oh, Thomas," Kurt coos, mussing the boy's hair, "of course he will…"

_Eventually_, Kurt thinks with dismay, but of this he can be completely certain.

Sebastian would never leave them.

That doesn't mean he might not do something completely stupid and reckless in the meantime.

The sound of the car door slamming and the house door opening again startles the pair, who stare back at each other for the briefest second before Sebastian storms in again, his left hand tucked slightly behind his back. He looks at Kurt, then at Thomas, and sighs. He kneels down, coming eye to eye with the boy. Sebastian pets Hepburn first, letting the dog know that everything is okay. Sebastian grabs the full Mason jar around the middle, pulls it carefully out of Thomas's hands, and sets it down on the kitchen table. From behind his back, he produces an empty Mason jar and puts it in Thomas's hands. Then he reaches his hand into his pocket and pulls out a roll of quarters – a survivor of the prior week's midnight arcade-a-palooza adventure that Kurt wasn't all too thrilled about until he beat Sebastian at air hockey three times in a row. He shows the roll to Thomas, whose eyes go wide, envisioning the tirade his father is preparing if he plans to use up all those quarters. Instead, Sebastian opens the end of the paper cylinder and dumps the whole roll into the jar with a loud crash of metal against glass.

"Why don't we just assume that everything I was going to say for the next ten minutes was full of cursing, and skip to the end."

"What happens at the end?" Thomas asks, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips, his body relaxing into the crook of Kurt's knee.

"Well, I apologize for abusing the power of the swear jar," Sebastian says, leaning in close and touching noses with his son, a slow smile burning on the boy's face, while Kurt gazes down at the two and shakes his head. "And then…PIZZA AND ICE-CREAM!"

Sebastian grabs Thomas out from behind his husband's legs and tickles him until the previously anxious boy dissolves into a pile of snorts and giggles.

"Stop!" he chokes out between laughs, "I can't…breathe…"

"If you can talk, you can breathe," Sebastian says, tickling the boy mercilessly for a moment longer. He picks him up and sets him on his feet. "Now, why don't you go get Hepburn's vest and we'll head out?"

Thomas's eyes light up at the mention of Hepburn's vest, pleased and proud that the labradoodle had finally finished training and earned full service dog status in the form of a bright red vest.

Sebastian stands and Kurt loops his arms around his husband's neck.

"Did I do good?" Sebastian asks, kissing Kurt slowly around his mouth, down his chin, along his jaw, up to his ear.

"Well, you haven't exactly apologized to _me_ yet," Kurt says.

"I thought maybe I could apologize to you later…" Sebastian sucks Kurt's earlobe into his mouth and nibbles gentle.

"Mmm,"Kurt hums, "and how do you intend on doing that?"

"I thought maybe, after the munchkin's asleep, I could try to get _you_ to fill up the swear jar." Sebastian tilts his head, his lips curling into that cocky grin that Kurt finds way too enticing.

"But we agreed that anything that happens in the bedroom doesn't count," Kurt reminds him, "especially if Thomas doesn't hear."

"What if we manage to wake him up?" Sebastian smirks, licking the shell of Kurt's ear.

"Then we'd better stop spending the swear jar money on pizza and ice-cream and start saving it."

Sebastian pulls away from Kurt and looks into his amused blue eyes.

"For what?" Sebastian asks, intrigued.

"For therapy," Kurt laughs, "because if he walks in on us doing the things that make me swear, then he's going to need it."


	8. The Cupcake Calamity

**A/N:** _This is another one-shot from my 'Daddies' series, featuring Kurt and Sebastian (well, mostly Kurt) making cupcakes last minute for a bake sale at their son's school. This one is inspired by personal events, and mentions one of my fave San Diego bakeries. Warning for mention of sex and foul language, and the mention of anxiety issues in a child. Originally, Thomas was going to make an appearance, but it's past his bed time ;) AU, FutureFic, humor_

"Are you sure there wasn't _any other time_ in the last two weeks that you could have told me Thomas would need 120 cupcakes by tomorrow morning?" Kurt asks in a mock cheerful voice while angrily whisking away at his signature cherry red velvet cupcake batter and glaring murderously at his husband.

"Probably," Sebastian answers with a shrug and an infuriating sense of calm. He meets Kurt's glare and has the balls to look unrepentant. "Sorry, babe. I just forgot."

It was on one of the mornings when Sebastian takes Thomas to school that Thomas's teacher, Mrs. Henderson, had told Sebastian about the school's annual Penny Bake Sale. She had even given him a bright orange flyer. He only half-listened at the time when she explained about Kaplan School's ingenious plan to nail parent's twice for donations during the course of one fundraiser. Parents pay the school money which is put into their student's "accounts" so that they can buy treats at the bake sale. On the day of, the kids come to school with a pocketful of pennies and use those to make their purchases. Kids are allowed to buy until their account runs dry. Along with being a fundraiser, it's also supposed to be a lesson in math and budgeting for the kids. Sebastian smirked while he listened. This school seemed to have a way to suck the fun out of everything. That's probably why Kurt loves it so frickin' much.

Once he heard the words 'bake sale', Sebastian pledged 120 cupcakes, which thrilled Mrs. Henderson to no end because Kurt's cupcakes are legendary. But Sebastian was worried about Thomas in all of this. His son isn't all that good at math and the concept of budgeting is foreign to him, no matter how hard Kurt tries to help the boy manage his allowance. When Thomas doesn't have a firm grasp of a concept, he stresses out really easily and that usually results in a level 18 meltdown. Sebastian doesn't want to be a helicopter parent. He doesn't want to have to attend the bake sale and hover over him, telling him what he can buy and what he can't, so to circumvent the problem Sebastian wrote a check for $30 to put into Thomas's account.

If Thomas spends $30 on treats that cost a penny, someone had fucking better find a way to stop him, tantrum or no.

Sebastian had left the school, prepared to call Kurt and let him know about the cupcakes he would have to bake, but as luck would have it, Kurt sent him a particularly filthy text along with an explicit picture, and all thoughts of bake sales and cupcakes flew straight out of his head.

Later on that same day, Sebastian used the bright orange bake sale flyer in a pinch to clean up after Hepburn, Thomas's pet labradoodle and service animal, during one of their impromptu after school trips to the park. Sebastian wasn't worried. He was sure he would remember the information and relay it to his husband.

Apparently, he was mistaken.

Which is why Kurt has been in the kitchen for the past two hours at nearly eleven o'clock at night, whisking away, with a small army of cupcakes already baked and sitting in tiny, multi-colored foil cups on the kitchen island.

"You know, considering the fact that Thomas's class is filled with kids who are all on special diets and have bizarre food allergies, it seems that we should be exempt from this insanity," Sebastian comments, doing his best to show solidarity for his poor, overworked husband while all the while eying the cupcakes in front of him, making moves to confiscate one of the cupcakes in the red foil cups closest to him.

"First of all, this is a _fundraiser_ for the _school_," Kurt explains with a thick helping of condescension, "and as Thomas attends Kaplan School, that means _we_ participate, and second of all, that is why Mrs. Henderson took the liberty of giving me a thorough and organized list of everyone's various food needs."

Sebastian looks over the tops of the cupcakes to a color-coded list stuck in the pages of Kurt's recipe book on the counter. Sebastian's eyes went wide.

"Which means what?" he asks.

Kurt huffs, blowing out a breath through his lips that lifts his bangs off his forehead. He stops whisking.

"That means that this batch of 60 cupcakes are regular red velvet cupcakes for the _normal_ kids..." He says the word _normal_ with a ridiculous amount of emphasis, and somehow manages to do the equivalent of air quotes with his expressive eyebrows. "The ones in the blue foil cups are gluten-free. The ones in the red foil cups are sugar-free…"

"Ewww…" Sebastian comments, looking back with disgust at the red foil cupcake he was preparing to snag moments before.

"The ones in the green foil cups are peanut-oil free, and the ones in the gold foil cups have no potassium."

Sebastian sits back and furrows his brow.

"Why the fuck…"

"I don't know!" Kurt laments in frustration, going back to his whisking. "Steven's mother says he can't eat potassium. I don't particularly care why, but there has to be at least ten cupcakes for each frickin' kid ergo a batch of super-dense potassium-free cupcakes! God save the Queen!"

Sebastian wants to laugh. He wants to laugh at his adorably overwrought husband pouring out his tenth batch of cupcakes. He wants to laugh at the flour dusted over Kurt's designer pajamas. He wants to laugh at the way Kurt mutters curses at Sebastian underneath his breath, and at the blissful domesticity of watching his husband in the kitchen.

But Sebastian spies a spattering of red velvet batter at the hollow of Kurt's neck, and all of his attention focuses on that…and his need to lick it off.

Sebastian stands from his stool over by the fleet of cupcakes to sneak up on Kurt who is focused on his cupcake pan, but stops when he notices Kurt's entire body go rigid. Sebastian figures it's because Kurt senses Sebastian walking towards him, and he's not in the mood to be touched, but he sees Kurt's blue eyes stare down at the counter, or is it his hands, and then up at the cupcakes with panic on his face. He stands up straight, raising his hands and grabbing at his hair in clumps.

"OhmyGod!" Kurt exclaims. "OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod!"

"Kurt?"

Sebastian immediately races over to his husband, overwhelmed with concern at the look on Kurt's face, which has gone pale in less than a second.

"My ring…" Kurt mumbles, his eyes searching the tops of the cupcakes as if they might hold the answer.

"What?" Sebastian asks with confusion, following Kurt's gaze to the cupcakes sitting quietly lined up in their neat, perfect rows.

"My ring!" Kurt repeats, pulling his left hand out of his hair and showing it to Sebastian. "My wedding ring! It's gone! It must have slipped off while I was baking and now…"

He doesn't finish his sentence. He can't. It's lodged in his throat at the thought of exactly where his ring has ended up…and what they would need to do to find it.

"Oh God," Sebastian mutters, but even as Kurt trembles with frustration and anger beside him, he has to clamp his teeth over his tongue to keep from laughing.

This is definitely not the time.

"It's okay," Sebastian says, running his hands down Kurt's arms, stealing a last, longing glance at that spot of batter on Kurt's neck that is simply begging him to run his tongue over it. "We'll cut the cupcakes open carefully, this way we can glue them back together…"

Kurt turns on Sebastian with an eyebrow raised and a grimace on his face.

"Glue?" Kurt asks.

"You know, with frosting or something…"

Sebastian thought it was a reasonable compromise, but his suggestion seems to frustrate Kurt more. Kurt sighs, the kind of full body sigh that deflates a defeated human body like a balloon. He turns his head to look at the oven clock and groans.

"It's fucking midnight," Kurt says. "I'm sixty cupcakes behind, and I can't even see straight anymore. Everything just looks red." He reaches out a hand and turns off the oven. "I'm going to bed."

Kurt pulls away from Sebastian's hands on his arms and heads for the door.

"But…but what about your ring…and the cupcakes?"

Kurt puts a hand to his head and squeezes his bleary eyes shut.

"You got us into this mess," Kurt mumbles. "You can get us out."

Sebastian looks down at the mass of cupcakes - one of which has essentially swallowed his husband's ring - then over to the cookbook with the recipe for Kurt's masterpiece cupcakes that only _he_ can seem to get perfect, and finally to that color-coded list.

"But…but…wait a minute," Sebastian says, chasing after Kurt and blocking his way, "I really wanted to get with you tonight…" Sebastian is pleading, his voice low, his lips closing in on that prized spot of batter. "I've been thinking about you all day."

"Well," Kurt says, pulling back right before Sebastian's lips can touch Kurt's skin, leaving Sebastian to whimper in its wake, "if you can think of a way to find my ring and replace 120 cupcakes in the next 20 minutes, then I promise to ride you into the fucking mattress. But after I've taken a nice, hot shower, I intend to be in bed and asleep, so if you wake me up, I'm going to start removing body parts…" Kurt leans in to his husband's ear, "and I promise they will be parts that you will miss."

Kurt backs away, spinning on one heel and blowing out the door.

Sebastian swallows hard.

He turns back to the sea of cupcakes, all of them mocking him now.

He gets an idea. He picks up a fork and starts stabbing at some of the cupcakes, trying to see if the tines make contact with something hard and titanium, but after twenty cupcakes he finds nothing. To top it off, the once pert pastries start to sink in on themselves from all the holes, rendering them completely unusable. Kurt would never stoop to selling flat cupcakes, even to children.

Sebastian looks at the time on the clock and grumbles.

Five minutes wasted, and still no closer to a ring or cupcakes.

How the fuck did Kurt expect him to fix this?

It reminds him of the birthday party they went to for Wes's daughter, Emily. She has some strange gluten/sugar issue, too, and they had to order her cake from some specialty bakery downtown. Wes showed up twenty minutes late, but he had forgotten to pick it up on the way to the venue like he promised.

Luckily, they delivered.

Sebastian jerks upright, struck by the bolt of an amazing idea. He yanks out his iPhone and pulled up a browser window.

"Please have a website, please have a website, please have a website…" he mutters, searching the Web for a listing for Gloria's Bakery. "Bingo!"

And there it was. Salvation. Kurt said that Sebastian needed to find a way to replace 120 cupcakes. He never said Sebastian had to make them himself. He clicks on the hyperlink for _place an order. _He looks down the options for cupcakes and finds a section for special orders and express delivery.

_Cupcakes ordered before 3 a.m. can be ready for same day delivery during normal bakery hours with a surcharge of $35 per dozen._

$350 in delivery costs on a $147 order of cupcakes?

Sebastian pictures Kurt for a second, gloriously naked, his pale skin glowing and marked with red cupcake batter waiting for Sebastian to lick it off.

Sebastian chuckles.

"Totally worth it," he says, selecting the cupcakes, entering his credit card number, and placing his order. "Okay," he recounts out loud to himself, "sixty regular red velvet cupcakes, twenty gluten-free, ten peanut-oil free, twenty sugar-free, and ten potassium-free for freak show Steven - why, we don't know."

He looks at the cupcakes on the counter and smiles.

This next part is going to be fun, but first he has to set the mood.

He scrolls through the music selections on his phone and selects Mussorgsky's _Night on Bald Mountain_.

Never let it be said that Sebastian Smythe ever did anything in halves.

With the orchestral score rising and falling behind him, he tears through the cupcakes with his hands, pulling them apart in search of his husband's ring. The carnage of the cakes is brushed to the floor as cupcake after cupcake is decimated, and still no ring.

_Wouldn't it be hilariously ironic,_ Sebastian thinks, _if the ring didn't fall into the cupcake batter at all? What if Kurt left it by the sink in the bathroom, or his bedside table…_

Sebastian smiles as he ruins the next cupcake in his hands. He knows Kurt didn't take it off. Kurt always said that the only way someone would get that ring off his hand would be to cut off his finger.

It's in the body of that last, traitorous, red foiled cupcake that Sebastian finds Kurt's ring, winking up at him. Sebastian wipes the ring off as best he can with a dish towel and kisses it. Sebastian has never been much of a jewelry man, but this one ring means the world to him. Sebastian looks at the clock. Three minutes left. He's cutting it down to the wire, but he'll just make it.

Sebastian rounds the corner, slipping on the remnants of destroyed cupcake littered all over the linoleum floor. He takes a look down and catches a glimpse at his clothes, also covered in cake, and strips them off, tossing them aside and racing to his room in nothing but his deep red briefs with the ring clutched in his hands.

He doesn't know what Kurt was complaining about. Bake sales are no big thing.


	9. Camping 101

**A/N: **_Kurt and Sebastian take their son Thomas camping for the first time. This one-shot was written for the Kurtbastian Hiatus Project prompt 'camping'. FutureFic, angst, AU, humor, fluff._

_Scritch-scritch…crunch-crunch…(wiggle)_

_Crinkle-crinkle…crinkle-crinkle…(shimmy)_

_(Bounce-bounce-turn)…(shimmy-shimmy-turn)…_

"Fuck!" Sebastian groans, his whisper hushed but in the quiet of the tent, it's harsh and loud.

"Sebastian!" Kurt hisses over his shoulder. "Language! I don't want Thomas to hear you."

"I can't help it!" Sebastian whines. "The ground is hard and I think a root is digging into my hip."

"Well, _you_ set up the tent," Kurt chides. "You have no one to blame but yourself."

"Yes, I do." Sebastian nudges Kurt in the back with his knuckle. "I blame _you_."

Kurt scoots back a bit, leaning on his side to peek at his husband in their cramped quarters, careful not to wake their son who is resting in his sleeping bag an inch away from Kurt's nose.

"Me?" Kurt asks, incredulous to his husband's outrageous accusation. "Whose idea was it to go camping anyway?"

"Irrelevant," Sebastian replies smugly.

"Irrelevant!?" Kurt nearly forgets himself and yells. "You were the one saying how you wanted Thomas to have the same rough and tough experiences you had as a boy. _Take him out camping. Let him rough it. It'll put hair on his chest._ Those were your exact words!"

"Maybe," Sebastian concedes. "But whose job is it to make sure we don't follow through with my stupid ideas?"

Kurt sighs, turning back over on his side away from his husband.

"Well, excuse me for thinking _this_ idea had merit."

"When does sleeping out in the cold ever have merit?" Sebastian argues.

"I don't know," Kurt sneers, kicking his leg back an inch and nailing Sebastian in the shin. "I'm quite enjoying myself," he says sarcastically. "Aren't you?"

"Yup, I'm enjoying myself alright," Sebastian sneers back. "All 6' 2" of me shoved in a two-person tent that smells like old farts with a dog's ass in my face."

Sebastian looks up for good measure at the quietly snoozing labradoodle whose hind legs are resting on his head.

"First of all, this is _your_ old scout tent," Kurt points out. "And dog butt can't be helped. You know we couldn't leave Hepburn behind."

Sebastian and Kurt sigh in unison.

"Look," Kurt says. "We've only got, oh, seven hours till sunrise. Why not, in the interest of family fun, we make the best of things and then chalk this up to a learning experience."

Sebastian sighs again, but the tension in his body relaxes when Kurt snuggles back against him.

"Okay," he relents. "I'll make the best of it, but I won't like it."

Kurt reaches back and pats Sebastian on the cheek.

"That's all I ask."

Sebastian grabs the opportunity and kisses Kurt's fingers.

"Besides, it looks like Thomas is enjoying himself," Kurt says.

Sebastian lifts up a bit on one arm to look over Kurt's body at his sleeping son.

"Yeah," Sebastian says with a fond grin. "Little guy's out like a light."

Sebastian settles back down beside his husband and prepares himself for an uncomfortable night of non-sleep.

The silence creeps in around them until all they can hear is the sound of their own breathing.

And then, a small voice pipes up.

"Daddy?" Thomas mutters. "Papa?"

Sebastian rises back up on his elbow to look down in Kurt's face while Kurt looks bemusedly back at him.

"Yes, Tom-Tom?" Sebastian asks his surprisingly wide awake son.

The boy pauses a moment to choose his words carefully.

"This kind of stinks."

Kurt stifles a laugh and Sebastian shakes his head.

"No, son," Sebastian says. "That's the tent."

Kurt can't help himself, barking out with a laugh that wakes the poor, drowsy dog.

"Can we stop camping?" Thomas pleads.

"We thought you fell asleep hours ago, sweetie." Kurt cranes a hand up between them and ruffles Thomas's hair.

"No, I was just pretending so you wouldn't feel bad," the boy admits. "And daddy?"

"Yeah, Tom-Tom?" Sebastian asks.

"You owe the swear jar a quarter."

That comment makes Kurt laugh louder, but Sebastian pounces on the boy, struggling to tickle him through his thick sleeping bag, the whole tent rustling and swaying as if caught up in a strong wind.

"Okay, okay, okay," Kurt chortles, trying to separate father and son. "Let's pack it in. This tent is too small for all this rough housing."

"Fine," Sebastian says, grabbing the giggling boy out from his sleeping bag, unzipping the door of the tent, and dragging him out. "Urgh!" Sebastian stands up straight, groaning when his spine crackles and snaps as he stretches to his full height with his son tossed over his shoulder. He takes a deep breath of the night air to clear the foul stench of the tent from his nostrils, then turns on his heel and heads for the house.

"Thank goodness we stayed in the front yard," Kurt comments, following his husband and son out.

"Shouldn't we bring the tent in?" Thomas asks, keeping an eye on Hepburn to make sure his dog follows them inside.

"Nah," Sebastian says. "If someone needs a skunky ass tent that badly, they can take the damn thing."

"That's another quarter," Thomas chirps. Kurt shakes his head as he hears the boy dissolve into giggles at the hands of his husband. Kurt waits for the dog to race inside the house and locks the door behind them.


	10. Travesty in G Minor

**A/N:** _Kurt and Sebastian (not quite) enjoying their son's first concert. This was written for the Kurtbastian Hiatus Project prompt 'concert'. Short, fluffy, warning for language._

"Oh…my…God…" Sebastian groans, raking his fingernails down his face, pulling at the skin, the pads of his fingers catching on his lips, tugging them at the corners.

"Shhh," Kurt hisses from behind his digital camera as he records the group of students, including their son Thomas, gathered on stage. "I don't want your bitching to overshadow our son's genius."

"How can you even hear our _son's genius_?" Sebastian moans, ignoring the shushing of other parents around them. "This is a train wreck."

"It's a _recital_," Kurt corrects, holding the camera farther away in the hopes of not picking up his husband's complaining.

"It's an assassination attempt using kazoos," Sebastian mutters under his breath, savvy to the murderous glares he's receiving all around him.

"They're recorders, not kazoos," Kurt says with a forced smile as he silently tries to assuage the faces snapping in his direction. "All first year music students start out with recorders."

"It's a tragedy." Sebastian sighs, sinking down in his seat. "A murder. They're murdering Bach. I didn't even know that someone could die twice."

A particularly sharp _sqwak_! fills the air, and the entire auditorium of parents wedged into too hard seats reflexively cringes.

"Apparently, you can," Sebastian whispers, and Kurt sputters, unable to control the laughter he'd been holding back since this disastrous rendition of _Minuet in G Minor_ had started.

Seeing a crack forming in Kurt's resolve, Sebastian decides to see how far he can break it.

"Has this piece always been 43 hours long, or does it just feel that way?"

Kurt sniffles, shaking his head, then straightening his back and focusing ahead in his patented _I'm ignoring you_ stance.

Sebastian moves in closer to his husband, refusing to be brushed aside.

"You know what would make this performance better?" he asks. "A handful of dying cats and a tuba."

Kurt bites his lip, his cheeks quivering, but he doesn't otherwise acknowledge Sebastian's remark. Sebastian knows he doesn't have much farther to go though. He can tell when Kurt's about to lose it. He crosses his legs, then he swallows hard, and he shakes his head to clear his thoughts – all three of which he does while Sebastian watches.

"Hey…what if those things are actually alien creatures and not musical instruments?"

Kurt rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness that is his husband and continues taping undeterred.

"And what if…" Sebastian whispers on, "every time a kid messes up and those recorders screech, it's actually the aliens cursing?"

Kurt sighs dramatically, the only concession he gives to Sebastian's adolescent remark.

But just then a recorder squeaks, and Sebastian whispers, "Fuck!"

Kurt's lower lip creeps slowly between his teeth and he bites down hard.

Another recorder squeals and Sebastian whispers, "Shit!"

A laugh gurgles up from Kurt's throat, but it stays trapped inside his mouth.

Several recorders stumble over the same strain and Kurt's mouth trembles before Sebastian even says a word.

"Motherfucker!" Sebastian says, which catches the attention of the woman behind them and she lets fly with a loud, obnoxious, "Shhhhh!"

"Stop!" Kurt mouths, but Sebastian can't. He's running out of time. Unless the group reprises the next coda (which they did once already and Sebastian prays they don't), the piece will be finished in the next few measures. He pulls out all the stops and comes up with the one word that (for some bizarre and unexplained reason) never fails to make Kurt laugh.

Sebastian leans over the arm rest, following Kurt as he tries to lean away, almost resting against the gentleman to his left in an effort to escape his husband. With nowhere to go, Kurt holds his breath, counting out the measures in his head, confident that Sebastian can't do any more damage this close to the end of the piece. The man to his left sits up suddenly, forcing Kurt back in his chair.

"Excuse me," Kurt whispers when the man turns and gives Kurt an awkward look.

Kurt sits upright with Sebastian smack dab next to his ear just as he whispers, "Penis."

The piece of music ends with an off-key flourish and Kurt – red faced and shaking bodily – laughs into the silence so loudly that it echoes around the auditorium. Two hundred and twenty six faces turn in unison in Kurt's direction.

Feeling triumphant but slightly guilty about taking all the attention away from the kids on stage, Sebastian leaps to his feet, clapping loudly.

"Bravo, guys!" he calls at the top of his lungs. "Beautiful! Well, done!"

The room of gawking parents begins to applaud slowly, turning their faces away from Kurt, who is doubled over in his seat, his face hiding between his knees. Soon, more parents are on their feet as the students on stage bow proudly, holding their recorders high in the air. Sebastian whistles and waves to Thomas, who sees his dad and waves enthusiastically back. Then Sebastian sinks back down in his chair beside his husband.

"Thanks for covering for me," Kurt says, his voice muffled since he hasn't lifted his head up yet.

"No problem, babe," Sebastian says, putting an arm around Kurt's huddled shoulders. "Anything I can do to help."

"Good," Kurt says, sitting up finally and collecting his things, "because there's something else you can do for me."

"What's that?" Sebastian stands with Kurt, feeling benevolent after his big victory.

Kurt turns his head over his shoulder and flashes steely eyes his husband's way.

"You can drop dead."


	11. Changing Colors

**A/N:** _Sebastian has to comfort Kurt when he ends up having a bad hair day on one of the biggest nights of his life. Inspired by the prompt 'bad hair day'. Warning for language._

Sebastian fumbles his keys, stabbing blindly for the key hole. On the third try he somehow manages to unlock and open the door to the house. He has no idea how seeing as his arms are full of crap - the evidence of a day's worth of running errands. Thomas and Hepburn crowd at his heels, trying to push past him. Sebastian moves a hip to let them through, losing his grip on his key ring and sending it crashing to the floor.

"Take Heppy into your room and get started on your homework," Sebastian says, kicking his keys into the house and then tapping the distracted boy gently on the rump with the toe of his shoe. "Remember, your uncle Wes is coming over tonight to babysit you, so I want you showered before he comes."

"Alright, daddy," the little boy calls back, letting his Labradoodle drag him through the living room and into his bedroom.

"Kurt!" Sebastian calls, attempting to locate his husband from behind a small mountain of groceries. "Kurt, where are you?" He kicks the front door shut, lays out their dry cleaning on the sofa, and carries the bags full of groceries and a handful of mail into the kitchen. "Kurt, come on, babe," Sebastian yells throughout the house. "We're burning daylight. We've got to get our asses in gear if we're going to make it to your shindig on time."

Sebastian reaches their master bathroom and is stopped by a locked door.

"Kurt?" Sebastian calls through the door. A tiny whimper answers him. Sebastian half-expected this – Kurt Hummel and his infamous stage fright. The amount of vomiting he did when he first snagged the role of Sweeny Todd on Broadway was almost legendary. He must have lost about ten pounds within the space of the first ten performances. The gossip rags had a field day with that, but Kurt rose above it all.

Of course, that was years ago. Sebastian smirks at the thought of his gorgeous husband bent over the porcelain throne over an elementary school fundraiser, finding it adorable that after all these years he would still get so nervous before an event – _any_ event. Though, to be fair, Sebastian has to admit that this isn't just _any_ event. When Kurt took over as head of the Kaplan School's annual Las Vegas Night Fundraiser, he pulled out all the stops, called in every favor he could from the names in his little black book. Through a lot of hard work and persuasion, Kurt had managed to perform miracles. Big names had already RSVP'd – designers, musicians, network celebrities.

Kurt had a reason to be nervous, but a lot more reason to be proud.

Sebastian raps lightly on the door with his knuckles, and the whimpering from inside the bathroom intensifies.

"Come on, Kurt," he pleads. "I was really looking forward to a quickie before tonight. What do you say? It'll help you relax."

"I…something horrible happened, Sebastian."

Sebastian feels his stomach drop. That's not exactly the thing he wants to hear when his husband is crying in a locked bathroom.

"Kurt," Sebastian says, "what happened? Let me in."

Sebastian hears a sniffle, some shuffling, and then the door unlock. He turns the knob and pushes the door in, immediately spotting his husband curled up on the bathroom floor.

His husband…with a head full of bright orange hair.

Sebastian stares, at a complete and utter loss for words, knowing that a single snicker might end up being the death of him, so he opts for a blank, shocked expression.

But somewhere inside, he's dying to burst out laughing.

"Oh…my…God…" Sebastian says, breathing deep after each word to keep from breaking down unintentionally. "Babe, pray tell, why did you choose tonight of all nights to go punk rock?"

"I…I didn't do this on purpose!" Kurt wails, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, not even tearing it off before he blows his nose into it. "I just wanted a few highlights. You know, like I had when I interned at Vogue? All those people coming tonight – they know me, and I didn't want them to think I let myself go now that we live out in the sticks…"

"Mm-hmm," Sebastian says with a nod, trying to be serious and supportive while he nearly bites his tongue in two to keep from saying something he'll regret.

"But I couldn't get an appointment with Carlos in time for the fundraiser tonight," Kurt continues, hiccupping at every pause, "so I thought I'd buy some box color and try it myself." Kurt reaches up and pulls down a lock to look at it, then immediately dissolves into tears.

Sebastian's brow furrows.

"So, did you specifically choose orange…"

"I don't know what happened!" Kurt interrupts, crying furiously, blowing his red nose into his crumpled toilet tissue. "It's a tone on tone colorant. It was just supposed to give me subtle highlights…" He grabs the box and shakes it at Sebastian, trying to prove his point, not that Sebastian can read the words on the box with the way Kurt is flinging it back and forth, "but instead I got this!" He jabs an index finger in the direction of his head.

"Well, whose tone were you trying for?" Sebastian asks, grabbing for the box to look at the instructions. "The Great Pumpkin?"

Kurt shakes his head, yanking the toilet paper until the roll starts spinning like mad.

"What the hell am I supposed to do, Sebastian?" Kurt whines through his tears. "We have to be at the benefit in an hour!"

"Maybe we can just call and tell them your aunt died and you can't make it?" Sebastian suggests, grasping at hypothetical straws.

"I'm chairing the fundraiser!" Kurt bellows. "I can't just cancel. I have to be there!"

"Well, do you want me to run to the store and get you another box of color so you can dye it back to brown?" Sebastian slides down the wall, sitting beside his husband on the bathroom floor.

"My hair is _not_ brown," Kurt mumbles in disgust, blowing his nose. "It's Autumn Chestnut, and I don't want to over-process my hair. Besides, there's no time."

Sebastian nods his head, trying to come up with a feasible plan to help.

"Do you want to try shoe polish?"

Kurt looks up at Sebastian, eyebrows raised, and for a moment he looks like he might actually laugh.

His face crumbles, and he cries harder instead. The sound makes Sebastian's entire body hurt.

"This is ridiculous!" Sebastian says, rising to his knees in front of his husband and shaking him lightly by the shoulders. "What are you doing? You are Kurt Hummel-Smythe. You don't let little things like neon-colored hair derail you."

Kurt pulls some clean toilet tissue from the roll and dabs under his eyes, nodding in agreement.

"You want to know what you're going to do?" Sebastian continues his pep talk. "I'm going to tell you what you're going to do. You are going to hold your head up high…" He puts a finger beneath Kurt's chin and raises his gaze, "and go to that event, orange hair be damned. And if anyone there can't handle it, then fuck them! Fuck them right up the ass because they don't matter."

Kurt chuckles brokenly, looking up at Sebastian with watery eyes and a smile on his wavering lips.

"Do…do you still think I'm beautiful?" Kurt asks, shamelessly fishing for a compliment before he pulls himself together and gets back to the business of getting ready.

"Of course, you're still beautiful," Sebastian says, baby talking Kurt a little to humor him and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You will always be the most handsome man I have ever seen."

Kurt nods as he leans into his husband's arms, taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly. Sebastian plants another kiss onto the top of Kurt's head, his eyes glancing down at the carrot-colored nest of hair tickling his nose.

"Thank you, Sebastian," Kurt mutters, bringing his tissue to his nose and blowing it one last time.

"Hey," Sebastian says, taking a longer, closer look at Kurt's demolished do, "for you, anything. I just have one question." Sebastian holds Kurt tighter.

"Yes?" Kurt asks calmly, his voice muffled by Sebastian's shirt.

"You're not going to sit anywhere near me, are you?"


End file.
